


Dancing in September: A Nice and Accurate Story of a Wedding

by Ash_and_Ember



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dancing, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Wedding, canon-typical footnotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 07:24:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_and_Ember/pseuds/Ash_and_Ember
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are pulled out of their retirement as Wine Moms to attend a rather unusual wedding. And once there,  it was only natural for them to partake in the usual festivities at a wedding. When in Rome and all that





	Dancing in September: A Nice and Accurate Story of a Wedding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Franzbibliothek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Franzbibliothek/gifts).



By modern definitions, the things Aziraphale and Crowley did when music was played could only loosely be called dancing. Aziraphale only knew the gavotte and a few other old styles and was apparently unaware that he had hips. Crowley, who had helped push the disco craze along, was all loose limbs and pelvic thrusts. Fortunately for the general populace, neither angel nor demon went out in public much. 

“No, we’re not going,” Crowley said for the upteenth time. “A demon, at a wedding? Not going to happen.” 1

“It’s not going to be in a church, and it’s hardly a typical wedding, is it? A witch marrying a witchfinder? Your— our— attendance won’t be the strangest thing there.” 

If walls could talk, the entire cottage would be screaming. This same argument had happened nearly every day since the invitation arrived two weeks ago. But since walls could not talk, they stood silently while the argument continued. 

“But what about the other people? What if someone asks how we know the couple?” Crowley’s voice got high and mocking. “You see dear lady, my husband and I are an angel and a demon respectively, been on Earth for 6000 years, and we met the happy couple while facing down the four bikers of the apocalypse and Satan himself. What’s your connection?”

Aziraphale set his wine glass down with a sigh and picked up Crowley’s hand. “My dear, that is what lying is for.”

Crowley dropped his wine glass. Aziraphale miracled it whole and removed the stain from the carpet. 

“We’ll most likely never see any of these people again,” continued Aziraphale as if nothing were wrong. “There’s no harm in going out and having a bit of fun.”

“Oh, alright,” Crowley said wretchedly. “But you’re not allowed to wear any tartan, or anything that went out of style any earlier than twenty years ago.” 2

The wedding ceremony was nice, if a bit unusual. Anathema’s vows promised to protect Newton from any manner of curses and use her magic to bring happiness and prosperity to the couple. If prizes were awarded for such things, Newton would have won for most bad puns in wedding vows. The whole thing was quite endearing. 

Aziraphale dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief that was clearly not from the 21st century while Crowley watched the two families interacting with glee. Between the exceedingly ordinary Pulsifers and the distinctly occult Devices, Aziraphale and Crowley went unnoticed. They were odd enough for the Pulsifers to think they were Devices, and dressed normally enough that all the Devices thought they were the most interesting of the Pulsifers. 

Either by coincidence or supernatural intervention, the weather was perfect that evening. The calendar had not gotten the memo that summer was ending soon, and thus the wedding reception took place in a tent strung with fairy lights in a field with flowers.

At the dinner table Crowley was deep in conversation with one of the Pulsifer aunts about their houseplant children. It wasn’t long until phones came out, pictures were shown, and Crowley was invited to join a gardening club. 3 Aziraphale was able to keep up a conversation with some Device cousins about books of prophecy. They were the only people whose knowledge had ever come close to his own. 

All good things must come to an end, and the food was taken away. The guests formed a loose circle around the dance floor and the center of the tent and watched Anathema lead Newton in a waltz. 

“I’m so happy the Puritan idea that dancing was a sin didn’t last too long,” Aziraphale said to Crowley. “It really is quite fun.”

“You know,” Crowley began thoughtfully, “ I exchanged a series of letters with Increase Mather. I tried to tempt him to write ‘An Arrow Against Promiscuity and Adultery: the Sanctity of Dancing’. Clear that did not work.”

Aziraphale looked at him curiously. “Why did you want dancing to come back?”

“Like you said angel, it’s fun.” Crowley then did something with his body that really should not have been possible. If one’s bones had all been replaced with jello and then one did a body roll, it would have been close to what Crowley had just done. The wedding guests near him were equal parts attracted and concerned for his well being. 4

By this point the dance floor was filling up. It was mostly couples enjoying the romance of the setting. Crowley nearly face planted onto the floor when a particularly enthusiastic Device grandmother whacked him between the shoulders. 

“What are you doing, boy?” she shouted into his ear. “Ask your husband to dance; it’s a wedding for fuck’s sake!” She disappeared into the crowd before Crowley could do anything more than right himself.

“Well, are you going to ask me to dance or not?" Aziraphale asked wryly. 

Crowley took one of Aziraphale’s hands and nervously stepped onto the dance floor. The song abruptly switched to something slow and tender that hadn’t been popular since the 1940s. A piano crashed, strings swelled, and Aziraphale nearly punched Crowley in the face as they tried to organize their limbs. Crowley kept trying to wind himself around his partner, who in turn kept trying to link elbows. Eventually they looked at what the others were doing and mimicked them.

 _Till the end of time, long as stars are in the blue_  
_Long as there’s a spring of birds to sing I’ll go on loving you_

“Really, angel,” whispered Crowley as they swayed gently together. “This is what you picked?”

“It’s romantic!” He sighed. “Just dance with me, my dear.”

Despite the rocky start, there were no disasters for the remainder of the song. It didn’t even take too much effort to detangle limbs. It wasn’t the worst experience either of them had had; it was actually quite nice. The grandmother who hit Crowley shot him a thumbs up from across the room. He returned a sickly smile and a falsely cheery wave. 

As the night progressed, so did the inebriation level of the guests. Crowley was sprawled on a chair in a way that suggested his hips had seceded from his torso, and were only on loose speaking terms with his legs. A wine glass dangled precariously from his hand. 

“What do you think Increase Mather would think of this?” Aziraphale asked him.

“Oh, he’d definitely hate it. People having fun, showing their ankles, men dancing with women… It’d be his worst nightmare.”

“Gosh, I’m so glad humans have stopped thinking fun will kill them. Victorian weddings were so bloody boring.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure you had a real dickens of a time during the Victorian period.”

“You wouldn’t know, you slept through most of it!”

“It was a lovely nap! I wish I had thought of sleeping through an entire century sooner.”

“It’s no fun missing out on that much of the world. I met so many interesting people then.”

Crowley snorted. “Angel, you wouldn’t know what fun was if it invited you to gentleman’s club and recited homoerotic poetry at you.” That is of course, how the angel in question spent most of the 19th century. And some of the 18th as well. 

Aziraphale blushed furiously underneath his dark complexion. “I can have fun,” he insisted. “In normal, human ways.”

“Yeah? Prove it.” Crowley leaned forward so his nose was almost touching Aziraphale’s. “Dance with me. We’re at a wedding, we’re slightly drunk, we’re going to let loose and dance.” 

Aziraphale glanced at the dance floor nervously, then back at Crowley. “It’s the entirely wrong sort of music for dancing!”

“None of the humans seem to have an issue with the music, angel. If you dance with me now and have fun, you can take me to that new sushi place and make me try whatever you want.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really.”

Aziraphale stood up, then helped Crowley to his feet. “I’m going to hold you to that promise. Can you please change the music to something more suitable?”

Crowley pulled his shoulder length hair into a bun. He grinned. Then snapped his fingers. A drum beat kicked in. Violins played an intro. Most of the guest perked their heads up in recognition. More violins. Then, _come on Eileen_. 

Aziraphale bowed to Crowley, who pirouetted. By the time the first chorus kicked in, a circle had formed around the angel and demon. The humans were clapping to the beat and raucously singing the lyrics as they watched the spectacle. 5 Crowley was doing a one-demon tango, complete with a flower in his mouth while Aziraphale bobbed up and down and conducted.

When the song slowed down, Aziraphale grabbed one of Crowley’s arms as he landed a grand jeté and pulled him into a foxtrot. As the song spend back up, so did their movements until Aziraphale lost all pretense of control and flailed around with as much abandon as Crowley. If you take the traditional steps to a gavotte, speed it up, and put it next to someone whose bottom half is doing ballet while the top half is discoing, it’s impossible not to have fun. Some of the other wedding goers wanted to dance to this song, but didn’t want to be taken out by any errant limbs or entire bodies. 

Crowley linked arms with Aziraphale, then spun him around into a dip as the song ended. Wild applause broke out, along with a few sexual identity crises. Aziraphale bowed again. Crowley waved. He had lost his sunglasses somewhere around the second chorus. The crowd broke apart as the next song began; there wasn’t going to be a repeat performance.  
They made their way back to their table, joy radiating from the both of them. Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s head, which was resting on his shoulder. “That was wonderful, my dear,” he murmured.

“I’m glad we came to the wedding.”

By the time the hangovers had faded the next morning, Aziraphale and Crowley were viral sensations. One of the younger guests had filmed the whole thing and posted it everywhere they could. The internet was having several field days. One person was hospitalized for trying to recreate something Crowley had done. Their hobbies stuck to reading books and threatening houseplants for good reason. 

1Crowley had in fact been to several weddings in the past, most of them involving the Medicis. return to text 

2 Aziraphale was rather put out at that. He had a lovely coat that he hadn’t worn since dinner with Oscar Wilde. Perhaps he could convince Crowley to change his mind.  return to text

3 Both sides took credit for suburban social groups. They were a way to make new friends and come together over shared interests according to Aziraphale, who also endorsed the spread of knowledge. Crowley got a commendation for the sheer number of deadly sins committed by members each meeting.  return to text

4 This was the standard reaction humans had to Crowley when he wasn’t tempting them. Historically, when people tried to flirt with him, they would try to take him to bed, and get him to do whatever was the current idea of what was good for his health.  return to text

5 Or making up their own, because really who knows all the lyrics to Come On Eileen? return to text

**Author's Note:**

> The songs referenced are Till the End of Time by Perry Como, and Come on Eileen by Dexy's midnight Runners.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSJ-oT2ZBa0  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HwVnX4ZgliY
> 
> Increase Mather was a Puritan minister in the Massachusetts Bay Colony in the lath 17th-early 18th centuries. As a trusted an influential community leader, he was drawn into the Salem Witch Trials. He was against using magic as evidence because it's hard to prove that. Puritans at the time thought that dancing was devil worship/sin, and in 1684 Mather wrote an essay titled An Arrow Against Profane and Promiscuous Dancing. 
> 
> Thank you to my friends who liked my jokes about gardening clubs and told me when my sentences didn't make sense. And thank you to Franzbibliothek for giving me the idea for this, and making jokes about Puritan ministers with me


End file.
